


i’ll be your candle (your statuette)

by v0rfreude



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Riding, wonwoos crop top now in joy division!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26144296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v0rfreude/pseuds/v0rfreude
Summary: Before Wonwoo has a chance to run off and model his newly shortened shirt, his phone signals another message.[seungcheol]: did you want to come over?[seungcheol]: game a little?Wonwoo’s heart flutters involuntarily, a grin stealing over his cheeks. The sun is just starting to sink in their apartment window. “Oh my god. He invited me over. What does this mean?” Wonwoo blinks at Soonyoung through his round glasses.Soonyoung rolls his bottom lip between his teeth mischievously. “It definitely means he wants to bang, dude. Like what else could it mean?”
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Jeon Wonwoo, drive by soongyu, the essence of soongyu, the idea of soongyu
Comments: 17
Kudos: 148





	i’ll be your candle (your statuette)

**Author's Note:**

> hello, i wrote this in three days in a fit of inspiration, and it’s totally all wonwoo’s crop tops fault.
> 
> i didn’t _really_ beta it, i’m so sorry for any mistakes. but hannah did read it for proof of concept and we love her for that.
> 
> title from the song philomena by the decemberists

_ Long summer days can lead to lazy vices _

_ Boys all at idle, left to their own devices _

_ Open up your linen lap and let me go _

_ Down, down, down _

_ —Philomena,  _ the Decemberists

  
  


_ “Seoul is experiencing record high temperatures this summer—” _

“ _ Ugh _ . Wonwoo-yah, turn that shit  _ off _ .” 

It’s too hot to make the effort to grab the remote off the floor between them. Soonyoung isn’t even playing on his phone like usual. He and Wonwoo lay motionless on the hardwood like starfish on a beach, just about as sticky. Wonwoo can feel the sweat rolling down his neck, his shirt glued to his back. “Too hot.” He mumbles in reply, pushing the glasses up his face and wiping the sweat from under his eyes. Even with the little window A.C. unit running overtime, it’s hot.

Soonyoung grabs the remote and mutes the tv before tossing it at Wonwoo. “ _ Too hot _ .” He mocks, stretching his limbs out after he peels them off the floor. Finally, he picks up his phone, opens up tiktok. From where he’s laying, Wonwoo can watch it upside down. Most of it is video game cosplayers and people who do lengthy conspiracy theory videos that give Soonyoung nightmares, but every once in a while it’s a very attractive man or woman sporting the latest fashion, or just looking good in general. 

It is this, apparently, that gives Soonyoung the idea.

“What if we cropped some t-shirts?”

Wonwoo blinks owlishly at Soonyoung’s upside down face. “What?”

“Y’know,” He turns the phone so Wonwoo can see the video right side up. It’s a girl showing off different ways to cut crop tops for summer. “We’ve been working out, we deserve to show it off.”

It only takes a moment of consideration for Wonwoo to shrug and nod—it’s always much easier to go along with Soonyoung’s plans anyways. 

When they finally gather the motivation to get up, they part ways in the hallway to scour their respective bedrooms for soon-to-be crop tops. Wonwoo comes up with an old Joy Division t-shirt. Soonyoung brings out an old Gucci knock off shirt that Wonwoo knows for a fact he’s had since high school. 

“That’s the shirt you chose?” Soonyoung asks, unimpressed.

“That’s the shirt  _ you _ chose?” Wonwoo shoots back, grabbing two pairs of scissors from the junk drawer in the kitchen. 

“It’s fashion!” Soonyoung huffs, scooting the couch back and the coffee table so they have room to work on the floor. While Soonyoung carefully considers his shirt, Wonwoo picks a spot he thinks will be good and starts cutting. “What if you mess up?” Complains Soonyoung, mapping out exactly what he wants.

“It’s knock off.” Wonwoo snorts while he shrugs. “I have more shirts.” Secretly, he’s always sort of wanted to try wearing more clothes like this, and working out has definitely kick started his confidence. He rolls up the sleeves instead of cutting them like the girl in the video, figuring that they’ll wrap around his biceps better that way. “I’m gonna go try this on.” He tells Soonyoung, who still hasn’t committed to cutting his shirt.

“Yeah, yeah.” Soonyoung waves him off, brow furrowing while he folds his shirt for what must be the fiftieth time.

On his way back to his bedroom, Wonwoo’s phone buzzes in his pocket. When he sees the name, his heart beats a little unevenly in his chest and a smile creeps onto his cheeks.

**_[seungcheol]: hey! what are you up to? staying cool?_ **

Wonwoo chews his bottom lip, deciding in a moment of boldness not to sugar coat things.

**_[wonwoo]: Soonyoung and I are actually making crop tops to try._ **

Dots appear and disappear several times before Seungcheol replies.

**_[seungcheol]: really? pics or youre lying :o_ **

A spike of heat crawls up the back of Wonwoo’s neck. He removes his current, sweat damp shirt and replaces it with the crop top.  _ The rolled sleeves were a good choice, _ he thinks while he regards himself in the mirror. When Wonwoo goes to take a picture, he realizes he’s still wearing gym shorts. “Shit.” 

“Well?”  **** Soonyoung calls. “How does it look? What’s taking so long?”

“Hold on!” Wonwoo calls back, shucking off his shorts to replace them with a simple pair of soft black sweatpants that he already can’t wait to peel off. It works though, the crop top ending just shy of the hem of the sweatpants. “I’d check me out!” He announces, posing in front of his mirror.

Soonyoung laughs from the other side of the door. “That’s not exactly news. Lemme’ see it.”

“Go away! I’ll be out in a second.” Wonwoo huffs, then backtracks. “Wait—which picture do I send to Seungcheol?” He opens the door enough to stick his arm out.

“Wait, you’re really hot. Oh my god? Definitely the one where you’re standing dick first and kinda smiling.”

For all of his teasing, Soonyoung has always been a great hype man. And though Wonwoo’s ears flood with heat, he hits send on the picture.

Again, the dots appear and disappear but this time with each second that passes, Wonwoo can feel his stomach twisting with a heat that has nothing to do with the ambient temperature of his room.

**_[seungcheol]: shouldn’t it be shorter?_ **

**_[seungcheol]: i mean! keep it a length you’re comfortable with! i don’t know anything about crop tops ^^;;_ **

Wonwoo moves immediately back to the living room where he takes the shirt off again. He’s sweating and flushed when he flops back onto the floor, but this time it’s from more than the heat.

“What are you doing?”

Wonwoo straightens out the shirt, then cuts a good two inches off before answering Soonyoung. “Seungcheol said it should be shorter.”

Soonyoung grins wickedly. “What a man of taste, I’m so glad you have a crush on him and not that himbo from the coffee shop anymore.”

Wonwoo peeks up at Soonyoung and snickers at the blush there. “You’re just mad because Mingyu’s like stupid hot and you haven’t slept with him yet.” A look flashes across Soonyoung’s face and Wonwoo knows he’s right.

“Your honor, I have nothing more to say.” Soonyoung huffs going back to his shirt which he’s finally cut.

Before Wonwoo has a chance to run off and model his newly shortened shirt, his phone signals another message.

**[seungcheol]: did you want to come over?**

**[seungcheol]: game a little?**

Wonwoo’s heart flutters involuntarily, a grin stealing over his cheeks. The sun is just starting to sink in their apartment window. “Oh my god. He invited me over. What does this mean?” Wonwoo blinks at Soonyoung through his round glasses. 

Soonyoung rolls his bottom lip between his teeth mischievously. “It definitely means he wants to bang, dude. Like what else could it mean? He saw how hot you are and now he wants you to come over. Go get that dick!”

Wonwoo runs haphazard fingers through his hair. “Fu–uck! I have to take a shower!” Before he makes the active decision, he’s sprinting towards the bathroom, cropped tee in hand. 

“Wait! What about—fuck it, you know what, nevermind.” Soonyoung huffs after him, already making up his mind that he’s lost Wonwoo to this.

**[wonwoo]: Yes, I’ll be there soon :)**

In the bathroom, Wonwoo turns the water to scalding and steps in, meticulously scrubbing every part of himself as hurriedly as he can. He nearly falls on his ass several times in his attempt to get out fast, towel drying his hair and slinging the towel around his waist. Then he puts gel in his messy black curls, controlled chaos.

In his chest, Wonwoo’s heart feels like waves against the side of a ship, crashing against his ribcage and loud in his ears. He pulls on the cropped t-shirt and carefully picks out a pair of black underwear, dark wash jeans. When he strolls into the living room, Soonyoung wolf whistles where he’s sprawled on the floor again, cropped shirt ending right below his nipples. “Damn.”

Wonwoo looks down at himself, the plane of his stomach, defined, but always feeling too skinny, out for the whole world to see. “Not too much, is it?”

“Nah, Cheollie’s gonna love it.”

“Your shirt looks good too, for what it’s worth.”

A kittenish grin curls up Soonyoung’s lips. “Thanks, I think I’m gonna go get coffee and flirt with Jihoon right in front of that dopey puppy boy.”

“For the eightieth time, his name is Mingyu. You’re so cruel sometimes.”

Soonyoung giggles, pixieish. “Oh, I think he enjoys it.” He winks at Wonwoo who shakes his head.

“Gross, I’m leaving.”

“Be safe! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Soonyoung calls, his laughter trailing Wonwoo all the way down the hall.

—————

Seungcheol’s apartment that he shares with Jihoon is two blocks away, thankfully in the direction headed away from the sun, so it beats on just his back, dripping sweat down the column of his spine by then end of their block. He stops into the convenience store that’s two buildings down from Seungcheol’s apartment, mostly so he can cool down and secondly, so he can buy snacks and not seem so obvious, like he’s  _ not _ just going to Seungcheol’s apartment to get dicked down. His cheeks turn ruddy at the thought and he leans into the cooler to grab two sodas to cool them. By the time he reaches the register, his arms are almost too full to carry everything. It all gets packed into a plastic bag with a thank you, and Wonwoo takes a final steadying breath before leaving.

All of his feelings have culminated into this, and it seems like finally they’ll be returned. Giddy, he buzzes Seungcheol’s apartment and is immediately buzzed in. The bag slips around in his clammy hand while he knocks on the door with the other. He imagines the millions of ways it could go, tries not to dwell on particular images of him on his knees. “Hyung, it’s me.”

Seungcheol answers the door with a wide smile. “Hey—” The air gets trapped in his throat, his eyes wide. He coughs, clearing the blockage and blinks a few times. “Oh, uh, hey Wonwoo.” He smiles, lips tight. “Come in.” Languorous, he moves out of the way, allowing Wonwoo to slip out of his shoes before closing the door. 

“I bought snacks.” Wonwoo holds the bag up, crop top sliding up on one side, with only a slightly forced smile. The apples of his cheeks light up again when he catches Seungcheol’s eyes drift downward. Even in the better air conditioning of Seungcheol’s apartment, oppressive heat swirls in his body, a bead of sweat rolling down his spine. But much to Wonwoo’s dismay, he doesn’t acknowledge the crop top or how much shorter it has gotten.

“You’re a lifesaver.” Seungcheol says, and there is no tension there, easy openness. Wonwoo feels silly, maybe he’s imagining things. He follows Seungcheol into the living room, setting the snacks on the coffee table and flopping onto the couch, his body a long line when he stretches over the back of the couch. Clearing his throat again, Seungcheol hands him a controller. “So, PUBG? Fortnite?” 

So maybe he did just want to hang out like usual. Wonwoo doesn’t know why he expected any different. He texted Wonwoo  _ before _ he saw the crop top version one-point-oh. Not that he’s totally disappointed, he loves showing off in games too. “Mm, I think PUBG.” Then he pulls two Melona pops out of the bag, handing one to Seungcheol. “Should probably eat these before they melt.”

Seungcheol’s smile pulls up, taking the ice cream and opening it. “Thanks, you know these are my favorite.” And Wonwoo blushes because he  _ does _ know, pays very careful attention. Seungcheol sticks the pop in his mouth, plush lips turning red with the cold and Wonwoo shivers as if he can feel it. “Is it too chilly in here? I can turn the air off.”

“Oh—uh, no that’s okay, hyung.” Wonwoo smiles, licks a drip off the side of his own ice cream, misses the way Seungcheol’s enrapt eyes follow the movement. “It feels good.” He says softly, looking back over at him. 

Seungcheol’s cheeks blotch with red, quickly looking back towards the television. “Right, I’m glad.” He opens PUBG, ice cream caught between his lips, causing a drip down his chin which he promptly wipes off.

Wonwoo wants to scream. Why, why, why did he do this to himself? He keeps his eyes strictly on the screen in front of him, gripping his controller tightly with one hand. He downs the rest of his Melona in record speed, brain freeze causing him to get sniped. Seungcheol goes to save him like a hero before Wonwoo can say anything, and gets downed too, pouting around the remains of his own ice cream which he finishes as consolation. 

The next few rounds go like this, the two of them sitting side by side, elbows brushing on the couch. First, leaning back, then leaning forward, hunched as they get closer and closer with each round to winning. At one point, Wonwoo’s avatar dies and he leans back, groaning. What he’s not expecting is Seungcheol’s surprisingly delicate hand to gently pat his thigh in consolation, wrapping halfway around it before going back to playing. “I’ll avenge you, Wonwoo-yah.”

And Wonwoo squirms in his seat unintentionally, distracting Seungcheol momentarily. When his character dies, it’s Wonwoo’s turn to console him, sliding a hand over his knee. Tellingly, Seungcheol freezes, and Wonwoo’s close enough to hear the hitch in his breath. A heavy swallow. A hand over his own, leading.  _ Up, up, up. _ “We don’t have to… Um… Talk about it.” Seungcheol says, voice thick.

Wonwoo looks, really looks at him. “Talk about what?” In the next instant, Seuncheol’s lips are on his, moving, warm and soft. So warm Wonwoo melts, hands useless, liquefied at his sides until Seungcheol tilts his head, tongue running along the seam of his lip, asking permission and his hands fly to Seungcheol’s sturdy shoulders. 

Wonwoo parts his lips with a gasp. And Seungcheol gladly takes what he’ll give, licking into his mouth, along his tongue and teeth. One of his hands comes to rest at Wonwoo’s hip and Wonwoo takes the hint, getting closer, slotting a leg between Seungcheol’s without breaking the kiss. When he finally pulls back for air, chest heaving, Seungcheol’s lips follow, brushing lightly when he takes a soft gasping breath. 

“Seungcheol-ah.” Wonwoo sighs, pressing, sunflower towards sun, into his hands that have both curled around his waist and digging into his skin. He knocks his forehead to Seungcheol’s, eyes searching.

“This is—?” 

He doesn’t even get to finish his question before Wonwoo is nodding. “Want you, Seungcheol-ah. Want it so bad.” His voice, naturally low to start, comes out a purr.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol’s voice gravels, stuck on a hitch when Wonwoo’s knee brushes over his dick accidentally. And Wonwoo may have been bulking up lately, but Seungcheol is bulkier still, picks him up like he’s nothing. This, alone, is enough to make arousal sink into the pit of Wonwoo’s stomach, taking root there like so much ivy. Wonwoo throws his head back, frenzied, laughing and squeezing his legs around Seungcheol’s waist. In the hallway, Seungcheol stops to readjust, pressing Wonwoo to the wall and kissing him breathless, fucking his tongue into his mouth. Then his hands grip Wonwoo’s ass and he nearly loses it, moaning into the kiss and rolling his hips against Seungcheol’s hard stomach. 

Seungcheol stumbles into his bedroom, closes the door with Wonwoo against it and ruts his hips up like he can’t help it. Wonwoo arches, tension in his body like a keystone. “Bed.” He whispers into Seungcheol’s mouth like a dirty secret. It’s all it takes for him to walk backwards, mouth on Wonwoo’s until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he lets himself fall back with Wonwoo on top of him. 

Their hips roll together, and they trade moans into each other’s mouths like songs until Wonwoo pushes himself up with hands on Seungcheol’s shoulders and bears down, too much and not enough with the fabric of their pants in the way. “Wonwoo-yah.” Seungcheol sighs, sliding a hand up until his fingertips are brushing Wonwoo’s bottom lip, mouth hanging open and head hung back wantonly while he grinds down against Seungcheol. Without thinking, he brings both of his hands to wrap around Seungcheol’s wrist, sliding his mouth around his first two fingers. “Ohmygod—” The noise Seungcheol makes when Wonwoo’s tongue slides between his fingers sounds absolutely wrecked. 

Wonwoo sucks at his fingers, obscene sounds slipping out from the spaces in between. When he finally pulls Seungcheol’s fingers out, Wonwoo guides his hand, down, down, down, sliding wet fingertips over his stomach and stopping with Seungcheol’s hand over his fly, pressing into the cup of his palm. 

Seungcheol mumbles nonsensically, words that Wonwoo thinks are encouragements and he smiles down at him, languid and flushed. “I’ve wanted this—so long,  _ so long _ , Seungcheol-ah.” He lets Seungcheol unbutton his pants, carefully maneuvering out of his jeans and underwear. 

Under the low light, the blush in Seungcheol’s face is still obvious. He whispers, voice cracking just a little with hesitation.  _ How? _

The first wave of confidence crashes over Wonwoo like a storm. His lips curl upward at the corners, electric heat zipping down the line of his body. He pulls Seungcheol’s t-shirt off his body and leans down to kiss him, pinning his hands above his head. This time when he bears down, rolling against Seungcheol’s hips, his cock slides against Seungcheol’s belly button, smearing a line of precome over his stomach. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?” Wonwoo smiles against the line of his lips, peppering light kisses.

“You—hm—know that’s not what I meant.” Seungcheol’s eyes shine, hips rocking upward so Wonwoo can feel the entire outline of his cock through his joggers.

Wonwoo pauses, nose brushing Seungcheol’s. “Hyung, you’re not wearing underwear?”

Seungcheol grins, pressing a messy kiss to Wonwoo’s chin. “I hardly ever do.” 

Another groan, another nudge of hips, “Where do you keep your lube? I’m going to open myself up.” 

Seungcheol scrambles, reaching for the nightstand, fishing a bottle out of the drawer along with a condom, tossing them down the bed before kicking off his own pants. And oh shit he’s big. Static fills Wonwoo’s brain, feels his hole clench around nothing, eager to be filled.

“ _ How? _ ” Seungcheol insists, bolder this time, his hands on Wonwoo’s thighs, nails scratching against his skin.

Wonwoo hums while he slicks up his fingers, moving back to settle over Seungcheol’s thick thighs so their cocks slide against each other when he moves his hips. “Well, when you asked if I wanted to come over, I thought you had this in mind.” He whispers conspiratorially. He presses the first slender finger into himself without much resistance, eyelids fluttering. “So I—I imagined you would be waiting for me, pull me in the door without asking, put your hands all over me.”

Seungcheol makes a small noise in the back of his throat, torn between watching Wonwoo’s finger work in and out of himself and his face, slack with pleasure. “You would push me to my knees,” He adds another finger, thrusts them in hard. “And you would use me, fuck my throat right there in the entryway.” 

Wonwoo leans down, changing the angle and pours more lube down between his cheeks, fucking it into himself, filthy and wet. He can feel their cocks, warm and wet with precome trapped between their stomachs, the friction not enough but sending jolts directly into his toes. “But you’re—you’re too nice for th—ah!” His fingers brush his prostate and he fucking  _ mewls _ into Seungcheol’s mouth, taking himself by surprise. When he regains composure, his lips slide against Seungcheol’s capriciously, eyes narrowed. “You’re too nice for that, aren’t you?”

The bedroom becomes hazy, Wonwoo presses a third finger into himself while Seungcheol reaches back to hold him open, wide palms cupped over his ass. “I could do that, for you.” He says against Wonwoo’s lips, breathless.

Wonwoo sighs, lips moving down, over Seungcheol’s jaw and the column of his throat. He fucks his fingers in and out of himself, slowing, pauses to scissor them open, to consider. “You would treat me so well, Seungcheol-ah. You’re so good.”

A whine tears itself from Seungcheol’s throat, his cock twitching against Wonwoo’s. And even though it shouldn’t, it takes him by surprise. “You like that?” He whispers, mouth moving over the smooth hill of his clavicle. “Like being told you’re so good for me, Cheollie?”

Another wounded noise escapes, his eyes shining and looking a little dazed. “ _ Please— _ Wonwoo-yah.” He hiccups, bucking forward.

Though he could, Wonwoo doesn’t draw it out further. He pulls his fingers out, grabbing Seungcheol’s cock in the same motion, thumbing the head with his already slick hand. Seungcheol groans, arching into the touch and letting a few curses slip from his mouth. Wonwoo smirks around the condom wrapper between his teeth, tearing it open before sliding it over him. He uncaps the lube again, coating Seungcheol’s dick until the slide of his hand is barely there, the sound of it loud and wet. Seungcheol hisses through his teeth, bucking insistently into Wonwoo’s loose ring of fingers to try and get more. “That’s it,” Wonwoo encourages gently.

After a moment, he moves up onto his knees, holding Seungcheol in place with one hand while he sits back on his cock slowly. The stretch is delicious, slightly painful, the edges of it blurring into pleasure. Even more so is the slide, the way Seungcheol melts into him and it’s like taffy being pulled, muscles in his lower body stretching and bunching until Wonwoo is seated on Seungcheol’s hips, feeling so, so full. A shudder runs up Wonwoo’s spine, his fingers digging into where they’re holding Seungcheol’s thighs behind him.

While he adjusts, Seungcheol’s fingers trail up the smooth plane of Wonwoo’s belly, under the edge of his crop top. His breathing all but halts, eyes shining and hands gentle but firm. Wonwoo leans down, breathing uneven and kisses him more slowly than before. An almost shy smile steals its way up Seungcheol’s lips that makes Wonwoo’s breath feel stolen away. “You’re so pretty, hyung.” He traces his thumb over Seungcheol’s soft lips and sighs hard when his tongue comes out to meet it, teasing. 

“Come on, Wonwoo-yah.” Seungcheol exhales, flustered. His hands come back down to settle on Wonwoo’s hips, gently encouraging them up and back down, easy and tentative. Wonwoo groans, keeping a slow pace, measured and even, dragging louder and louder moans from Seungcheol. He strokes his hand over himself at the same leisurely pace, dripping precome onto the trail of hair along Seungcheol’s belly.

The next time Seungcheol says his name, it’s broken between pants, eyebrows furrowed and lips hanging open. “More—“

Wonwoo bites into his bottom lip, driving his hips down and drawing another moan from Seungcheol. Gradually, he speeds up, the bed rocking rhythmically below them. “Seungcheollie—so, so good—oh fuck.” His words run together like paint on a palette, coming out in endless streams of slurred praise until Seungcheol thrusts up and keeps at it. The snap of his hips is hard, relentless when he pulls Wonwoo down to his chest, and the head of his cock drags over Wonwoo’s prostate every time. 

Wonwoo’s cadence of  _ ah’s  _ rise steadily in pitch, raking his nails over Seungcheol’s sweat slick sides, his cock sliding between their stomachs until Wonwoo feels like he’s going to go crazy. He reaches down and strokes, once, twice before he’s coming down the length of Seungcheol’s chest, pooling in the dips of his muscles. “Nn—“ He whines, rag doll with his face pressed into Seungcheol’s neck while he keeps fucking into him. “Seungcheol-ah, come for me,” He purrs, teeth grazing over the soft skin of his neck. 

“Wonwoo—hh.” Seungcheol sobs when he comes, pulsing inside of Wonwoo, twitching through it. He keeps rocking when he’s done until they’re both trembling from overstimulation and Wonwoo has to gently squeeze his hips with his knees to stop him before he fucking blacks out. 

They both lay there, blissed out, cum cooling between them in a long quiet moment before Seungcheol grabs his chin to look at him. “I changed my mind.” He says softly.

“About what?” Wonwoo asks, rolling off of him, groaning at the soreness of his lower body. 

“I want to talk about it.” 

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise to his hairline, he was not expecting that. “Can we clean up first?” He smiles sheepishly, red tinging his ears. 

Like a giant dog, Seungcheol nods, hurrying off to grabs a cloth while Wonwoo is left to pick at his fingers nervously, finally removing the crop top that started this. When he returns, Seungcheol smiles easily, meticulously cleaning both himself and Wonwoo. 

“Can we talk about it now?” He asks, looking hopefully and satisfied when they’re both mess free.

“Um, yeah I—“

“Can we date?” 

Wonwoo blinks like he’s on camera, like the rug will be pulled out from under him at any second. “What?”

“I mean, this was great, you looked so good in that top that I did want to… y’know when you sent me that picture but I didn’t know how you felt and—“

Wonwoo cuts him off, pulling him into a kiss that’s softer than it has any right to be after  _ that _ . He pulls back smiling against Seungcheol’s lips. “Yes, yes, I’ll date you. Just as long as you keep kissing me.”

Seungcheol smiles, and he does.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! you can find me and my yelling at [here](https://twitter.com/armpitsjun).


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